Jazen's Tale
by Robina Snyder
Summary: Jazen is valet of Daemon Sadi. He's also a man who has scars from Terrielle. Having been living in Kaeleer for well over 200 years his entire life has been his job, but his life changes when he meets a broken witch who wants to be normal as he does.
1. Chapter 1

**Jazen's Tale**

**Rating: M**

**Synopsis: **Jazen is valet of Daemon Sadi. He's also a man who has suffered terrible brutalities in Terrielle. Having been living in Kaeleer for well over two hundred years his entire life has been his job, but his life starts to change when he meets a broken witch who wants as badly as him to have a normal life.

* * *

Jazen scrubbed his face with his hands to try and wake up. He, like many other servants, lived at the Hall, but even valets got days off, and on those days Jazen would work if he was at the Hall. Prince Sadi had finally talked him into getting an apartment in Hallaway. It was close enough that he could go home whenever he wanted, but mostly he preferred the Hall.

It wasn't that Hallaway wasn't very nice, but his life had been his job ever since he could remember, even before the maiming. Before he'd only ever had the occasional lover because he'd been too busy and assumed that he would find time now. Hedging on two hundred years since, and not one romantic encounter.

No one pushed in the Hall. They knew what happened to him, or at least they knew that it shouldn't have happened. He had friends there, and a man he was willing to serve. People on the outside weren't so understanding. He always had to be careful about when and how he got undressed and bathed. It was also awkward when having to find the privy. A healer had been able to do a bit of work so that the process was less messy, but that didn't mean it wasn't less awkward.

Mostly, he just didn't like being treated like he was a cripple, or stared at. He wasn't an invalid. He could still work. He was still a man. There were things he couldn't do, but other males had similar procedures due to diseases, the difference was that most people knew about it, or it happened when they were very young, too young to have known a woman, or old enough that they already had a family. And in those cases it was normally one or the other, not everythin, not like him.

Jazen sighed again, quietly getting dressed for the morning. He'd go to the pub nearby for breakfast. They knew him there. The owner had worked at the Hall for a while and knew about his 'condition'. It meant that no one was going to bother him, even if the pity he saw in the man's eyes grated him. It was funny really, at one point his worst pain came from the fear of starving, now his biggest pain came from kind hearted people with pity in their eyes. His whole life didn't come down to one day, did no one see that but him?

'Well, that's hardly fair' he thought to himself and he started working on his tie. Daemon Sadi had never looked at him with pity, only understanding. It made Jazen feel guilty sometimes. He'd felt pity for Sadi before, but his employer actually understood the pain. Well, he didn't know thee exact pain, but he knew what it was for people to look at him based on something he hadn't much been able to help.

He finished with his tie, looking at himself in the mirror in his room. He was actually a fairly attractive man, not like his employer, of course, or any of the SaDiablo family, but they were a very special case. He was handsome for being a normal human. What had someone said before? 'What a waste.' That sentiment annoyed him. It wasn't like he was dead, he was still there. He still had thoughts, and emotions and two working hands and a strong back. His father had always said a man's life was his back, funny how no one treats you bad if you throw you back out, but if you lose other parts of your anatomy then you're suddenly treated like you are the plague itself.

He grumbled to himself and pulled on his shoes, heading out to go get breakfast. He didn't normally think about his maiming like he was now. He'd gotten used to it, but everyone so often someone would say something that would get right under his skin. This time it had been a drunk idiot. It wasn't even addressed at him, but some other man that Jazen had never seen who according to the drunk claimed to have been hurt the same was Jazen was. Not that the drunk man believed it.

It was probably more honest to say that no matter how Jazen ran over the drunk's words in his head (_Bloody liar, thinking such a ridiculous lie will fool anyone. Man's a rapist and trying to hide it. You know, I think those terriellians are exaggerating their problems to get our resources, take our jobs, and here comes one man playing like he's all innocent. No innocent man would get hurt like that, no man would allow it_) he wasn't really insulted for himself. Well, he was insulted, the man had called him a liar by proxy, but it was the stigma wit being from Terrielle that pissed him off the most. He was avoiding that by dealing with a different pain, one that he'd been dealing with longer and knew how to handle at this point.

He slipped his hands through his hair and left, locking his door and vanishing his keys as he left. Locking a door with your jewels was all well and fine if you had a darker set of jewels, and it wasn't like he didn't lock his door that way as well, but he liked the physical weight of real locks better. There was something so human about them, a reminder that he was a part of not just the blood but also the Hayllian race.

Jazen quietly found a tune to whistle, one of Lady Jaenelle singing a witch song that she'd recorded for him when she heard him humming it one day as he worked to straighten up her husband's room. It was one of his most treasured possessions. But then Lady Jaenelle had never looked at him as what he'd lost or what he could have been; only what he was and could be.

"_You're meant to be more than just Daemon's valet," Jaenelle said, watching him press her husbands clothes._

"_Oh, did you see it in a web or something?" Jazen asked. He may have been one of the few people who would ask such things, but he knew she liked being treated like a person sometimes. That was how he'd spoken to the lady's of the men he'd served in the past as well… well that's how he'd speak to them if they were any good._

"_No, it's just something I can tell about you," she said and he turned to look at her, catching for a moment the oldness in his eyes. It reminded him of his great grandmother for just a moment, an old, old woman who'd been around before Terrielle became so tainted, and remembered the old ways, the no one had believed her. He remembered her looking at him the same way whenever she asked him if he'd found a wife yet, and he quietly laugh it off then. _

"_Don't worry your mind with me, I'm not that important," he said, laughing her off like he had his grandmother. He saw her frown just as his grandmother would frown. He would always laugh off her words, but he wouldn't forget them… just like he would never forget Lady Jaenelle's words to him from that day. _

Jazen smiled a bit sadly at the memory before realizing that he'd actually walked past his intended destination. He actually laughed at himself and spun on his heel, walked back to the pub and actually entering the establishment this time instead of wandering past it.

"Good morning Warlord!" Birdie, the owners wife said cheerfully, winking at him as she passed. He liked her a lot, she was just the embodiment of a festival evening, fun even if it was a bit naughty at times. She flirted with him constantly, but he never felt uncomfortable or like she was making fun of him, or that it was going to make her husband angry even if he didn't know Jazen before hand.

"Good morning, Lady" Jazen said with an over dramatic bow, making the woman and her husband laugh.

"You do see Terry he'll set you up with a bit of milk while I get your usual," she said with a grin.

Jazen said and walked to the bar, finding his usual. A glass of milk was already waiting for him. "You know I could get you something stronger," Terry said, inspecting his glasses to be sure they were spotless.

"It's only ten of the morning," Jazen said. He didn't mind alcohol, but he preferred juices and milk in general, something that Terry teased him for, and his employer found completely impossible to understand.

"Ehh, well, drinking a good whiskey this time of the morning will put hair on your chest," Terry said and Jazen snorted in a laugh.

"Has that worked with any of your customers, ever?" he asked. Men of the long lived race didn't grow hair on their chests or faces, and Dhemlan men were the majority of Terry's customers.

"Feh, you just don't appreciate a good thing when you see it!" Terry said.

Jazen shook his head. It would always start out like this. It wasn't like they didn't get along, but almost always one of them would say something and then Terry would start feeling awkward and get really quiet or start tripping over his words to not offend Jazen. It was like he didn't realize that Jazen had suffered a lot already, and a few poorly chosen words were not going to make him burst into tears.

"Here you go, baby love," Birdie said, kissing Jazen's cheek as she slipped his plate down in front of him.

"Thank you Birdie," Jazen said, ignoring the kiss. He didn't even seem to notice that Terry was shaking his head. Birdie would give simple affections to people she trusted, Jazen happened to be one of them. Besides that, her husband was a green jeweled prince who preferred physical labor to a court dinner any day. This meant he was a very big and imposing man who had the ability to back up his fists with some real strength. He could also break Jazen is half if he wanted to.

Jazen started in on his eggs, content to eat in silence, that is until a loud crash in the back of the pub interrupted his morning. "Is something wrong?" he asked, watching Birdie bustle back, her hips and braid swinging in ways that were more frantic than flirty like she normally walked.

"I hope nothing big got broken," Terry said, seeming like he wanted to go back and check, but shook his head and looked back at Jazen. "It's the new help," he said. "Birdie's sister suggested her. She's a fiercely brilliant cook, but she's got a problem with customers," he said.

"You don't let customers in the back," Jazen said.

"Yes, but milkmen come to the back," Terry said, and Jazen understood. It wasn't customers this girl had trouble with, it was men. This was why Terry was hesitating, if she really had a problem then he didn't want to make it worse.

"What happened to her?" he asked.

"What happened to you?" Terry asked, and Jazen stiffened for a moment, waiting for Terry to figure out what he said was offensive and stammer out an apology. Instead he just looking to the back, absent mindedly cleaning the glass in his hands until Jazen had to lean on the bar rail and grab the glass so Terry wouldn't have more broken things to clean up. "Thanks," Terry muttered.

"Don't mention it," Jazen said.

Birdie came out at that moment, looking troubled. "Is everything okay?" Terry asked.

"We lost a couple sets of dishes," she said, "but Annalie's bleeding badly, I think she needs a healer," she said, looking worried. "I was going to go and get Malene," she said.

"No, I'll go," Terry said. "You need to stay with her, you know I can't, and it's too early for the others to be in," he said.

"We'll have to close shop for a while then," Birdie said.

"No you won't," Jazen said. "I'll go. It's my day off," he added so Birdie wouldn't protest. If the girl actually needed a healer then they didn't need to be having this argument. "You can reheat my plate when I get back," he said and got up.

He walked out, not letting them protest. He caught the winds. Malene was a good healer, but she lived on the other side of the city, and he needed to get her quickly. A short ride on the purple dusk and he had arrived, dropping off at Malene's door and entering.

"Do you have an appointment?" the healer in training squeaked from behind her desk. Malene had a new idea about healers and how they should have offices and clean environments to check their patients in. She was good, but a bit eccentric.

"No, but I need Malene, someone's gotten badly hurt at Terry's," he said, raising his voice loud enough that he knew Malene heard. It was early enough in the day that most people hadn't gotten out of bed to do things yet. Malene was opened early, as was the pub but there wasn't anyone at the pub when he'd arrived there, just like there wasn't anyone at thee healer's yet.

"Is it Annalie?" Malene asked. "Nevermind, don't answer," she said. "If it were Birdie then Terry would have carried her, and Terry would have healed it enough to get himself down here on his own," she said. "Come on," she said, walking out. They both caught the purple dusk, riding it back to Terry's.

When they arrived, screaming could be heard in the back. "Damn," Malene muttered, heading back Jazen followed, too curious to let his common sense keep in the front where Terry wasn't, and should have stayed.

It was fairly obvious why he hadn't though. There was a lot of blood and broken dishes on the floor, as well as a bloody knife. Past the kitchen, in the living area of the pub where the screaming was coming from, were Birdie and Terry who were trying to keep a flailing girl on the bed. Jazen could see that she was really bloodied, and he wondered what had happened.

"Terry, get away," Malene said, and Terry did as he was told, Malene walking over and snapping her fingers in front of the young woman's face until she stopped flailing and screaming and started to calm down, her eyes focused on Malene, who was now wearing her sapphire jewels. "Just relax," she told the girl. "What happened?" she asked Birdie as she started to work.

"The milkman came back and surprised her. He wasn't the usual guy, but he used to come around a lot before, so he thought he was welcome in the kitchen and didn't realize that we have new rules," Birdie said. "She dropped a bunch of plates and ended up cutting herself really badly in the process," she said. "And she couldn't move. I told her that Terry was just going to bring her to her room, but she freaked out when we got part way here," she said.

"See, this is why I tell you to leave my patients where they are," Malene said. "Jazzy, go get me some warm water, will you?" Malene asked in a baby voice, making Jazen wince.

"Of course," Jazen said, going professional cool, and walking back to the kitchen to get what was requested of him. He was actually glad for the excuse to be out of the room. When Terry and Birdie had moved and Jazen really got a look at the injured young woman it felt a bit like his world had shifted. She was small, and properly plump for pleasing curves, and she had large golden eyes that were just a bit too large for her face. It was an innocent look, one that certain types of men would have liked, and it was obvious by the fact that a little probing told him that she was broken.

It really made him angry. It would make any reasonable man angry too. He felt like underneath the wide eyed fear he saw in her that there was strength, like something really good could have been in her if she hadn't broken. It took a lot of strength to move to Kaeleer no matter what. There were a lot of risks involved, and the service fairs hadn't been opened for a few hundred years. Jazen wasn't sure, but she seemed more like a new arrival, which meant that she'd have needed even more courage to get through the gates.

He returned with a basin of the water Malene asked for before looking at Terry. "I'll clean up so you can get back to the front," Jazen said. "We don't want anyone stealing your liquor," he added as joke, since Terry wouldn't shut up about his liquor sales kept the roof over his and Birdie's head (these rants were normally about why Jazen should buy some alcohol from him). It succeeded to snapping Terry to some of his senses.

"No, Jazen, I can-" Birdie started.

"Stay here, no worries," Jazen said, waving her off. "You're needed here," he said, glancing over at Annalie, whose gaze he'd noticed kept going to Birdie, though now he found her eyes fixed uncomfortably on him.

He pretended like he hadn't seen that and headed back to the kitchen. He started by sweeping up thee broken pieces with a bit of craft and starting to try and get the blood out. Birdie was a hearth witch and would be able to get the last of it out of the wood floor, but he could make her life easier by getting the worst of it out of the old wood and starting the treatment so it wouldn't be so hard to scrub out later.

"How are you enjoying your day off?" Terry called asked, looking at him from the door.

"Terribly relaxing," Jazen muttered, smiling a bit as he heard Terry laugh and go back to work.

* * *

So…. Jazen, not really a romantic lead?

I love the Black Jewels Trilogy because it's such a great world, but I feel like the author leave so much undone in favor of playing with her favorite dolls (AKA: The Pantheon, AKA: the SaDiablo Family). Not that those dolls aren't interesting (I contend that the woman is a genius for making me love Saetan when basically most of the pain that happens to the people in Terrielle, not to mention his own children, happens because he doesn't have the balls to kill Heketah early on. The truth is that Jaenelle wouldn't have been needed if Saetan hadn't been too tied by honor, and yes, Daemon and Lucivar probably would exist… but then how many people suffered and died? And I still freaking love Saetan!).

My main problem is that Terrielle is left completely unhelped, aside from Shalador Nehele… and that's it. It's already stated that Daemon can't go to Terrielle, and Saetan essentially stops taking care of the Dhemlan territories… but even if he takes care of the Terrielle Dhemlan, he still dies, and no one's left to help. Then there's Hayll, ground zero for the taint, meaning the most blood gone, and the ladens have been under the thumb of the blood longer, which means even bloodier uprising… and no one's there to help. No one goes to Terrielle to teach people the old ways. The land of light has no taint, but is still screwed because the SaDiablo family (who do basically lead Kaeleer) turn up their nose because of personal hurts caused by people who are dead or most likely dead.

Yes, I do want to do things with Terrielle, but I figured I'd start smaller and write a love story.

One of my other annoyances with the series is that it has the claim that good people should receive good things and that people can be hurt for no reason, and can rebuild in Kaeleer… but Jazen's "happy ending" is that he gets a job where people don't stare at him funny. I suppose compared to what he had Terrielle this is a blessing, but because he was hurt so badly by Dorothea and he doesn't get to rebuild or have a 'normal life'. The thing is that people who aren't interested in sex, or unable to have sex can still love people.

My roommate tells me that by writing this I have clearly missed the point of fanfiction, that it's all about sex, but I like to think that fanfiction can be able healing and intimacy as well. I did look into things about castration and penectomy (which, as bad as I feel about saying, look really freaky) because I wanted to try and get this more right. Yes, the possibility of sex is reduced down to basically what Jazen can do for his partner, but there is an intimacy in that as well.

And now that I've spent a whole page on Author's Notes, let me wrap up with this. I plan for this to be a few chapters. I don't think this will be very popular because it's so very weird of an idea, and it's really not about the main cast by a side character and an OC. I would love a few reviews, because I want people to like this, and I want people to think about the series beyond what's on the page, about what's left unsaid and what can be done still with this wonderful world that Anne Bishop has made for us to imagine and play in. So, I hope you enjoyed and will come back for more chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jazen?" Daemon asked his valet.

"Yes Prince?" Jazen said, trying to straighten the shirts he was putting in Daemon's closet so he wouldn't have to worry about ironing later. He would often work in his employer's room when his employer was there, and they spoke sometimes.

"Is there a reason why a healer came to my door asking about you?" Daemon asked, turning to look at his valet.

Jazen looked very confused for a moment. "A healer?"

"Yes, a woman named Malene," he said.

Jazen flushed and tried not to rub his forehead. "A reason, Prince, but not a good one," he said. He probably shouldn't have said it that way because now the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan looked interested, and that was the last thing he needed.

"Oh? What is this not good reason?" he asked.

There was no way to really explain without it sounding very, very bad. "She wants me to spend time with one of her patients," he said. He same Daemon's eyebrow raise and wished that he'd waited to hang up the shirts, even if it meant extra ironing.

"Is he-" Daemon started and Jazen knew what he was asking.

"She," he corrected.

"She?" Daemon asked, very interested suddenly.

Jazen couldn't help but sigh. "Prince, it's not important enough for you to worry about," he said.

"Well, it is the first interesting thing that's happened to my valet in a long time," Daemon said, and Jazen suddenly felt that his employer was still holding a grudge from the first time Jazen had met Jaenelle and had accidentally called Daemon boring. The problem with long lived races is that they had plenty of time to hold a grudge.

"Malene thinks that if I spend time with her patient that her patient will adjust to be around men," he said. He didn't need to say more. Jazen knew it was bad. There was never, never a good reason for a woman to be afraid of men, and as someone who'd been forced to be around women under the pretense of ringed-men being harmless; Daemon SaDiablo didn't take the idea of his employee being used like that well.

"Jazen," Daemon started, but Jazen felt like he had to send this before it got any farther.

"Sir, this isn't a problem" Jazen said. "Malene is… very blunt, but she's trying to help a woman who the last three times a man has gotten anywhere near her she's ended up getting hurt simply because she panics so badly," Jazen said.

The storm Jazen felt started to settle down, and he felt relieved. Or he did until Daemon asked his next question. "And is there a reason why you said no?"

* * *

That was how Jazen found himself visiting Terry's pub with strict instructions to spend time with a woman who clearly did not want him around. It didn't help that Terry seemed to feel so awkward about it, but at least he was staying in the bar area. Birdie was moving around the back, working to be sure that her kitchen was ready for the rush.

"Can you be a dear and get me the mixing bowl off the top shelf?" Birdie asked. She just wasn't tall enough to reach, which is part of why Jazen got it for her. It was that and he didn't feel comfortable having nothing to do. When he had nothing to do he ended up glancing uncomfortable at Annalie, who would glance uncomfortably back. It got even worse when Biridie would leave for a moment, as neither of them would so much as breathe until she returned.

Birdie hummed as she moved in and out of the room. "Okay, I'll be out for the rush," she chirped.

"Do you need anything?" Jazen asked, proud of himself for not sounding panicked.

"No, don't worry. If we got problems, we'll tell you," she said. Apparently she seemed to think the past few uncomfortable hours were good enough to get Annalie relaxed enough around him to not set her off. Well, she hadn't panicked yet, but then the only times he'd moved were when Birdie was in the room.

Birdie headed out, and again they fell into silence. Jazen's eyes moved to everything in the room that wasn't Annalie. He didn't want her to catch him looking at her and think he was staring, especially since he'd seen her glance back at him a few times. Finally his eyes switched over to her cooking.

"You're about to set your potatoes on fire," he commented. She jumped a little and he winced, waiting for her to knock something over and end up spilling hot oil on herself. Instead she looked down at him and then at her potatoes, turning down the heat a little.

"Oh, right," she said quietly. Jazen realized this was the first time he'd heard her speak, since the only time he'd heard her voice before was screaming. It was nice. It had a deep, husky, slightly hoarse quality that he liked. It reminded him a bit of his mother's. Though, in her case it was because she'd smoked since her youth and didn't trust healers to help her lung. He wondered for a moment if his mother was even still alive, then he pushed that thought aside. Besides, he doubted smoking had caused the hoarse quality of Annalie's voice.

"Hm?" he asked, suddenly realizing that she'd said something and he hadn't heard.

"Why are you here?" she asked again, not looking at him but at the many pots she had on to cook.

"Malene asked me to be here," he said.

"No, she told me that you weren't coming, so why are you here?" she asked.

"Wait, did she tell you I was coming before?" he asked.

"I asked her if you would come," she said.

"You asked her? You asked Malene?" he asked, a little stumped as to why.

"You feel different," she mumbled, but he heard her just him.

"Different," he said rather flatly. There was something about the ways he said it that annoyed him, but he wasn't going to press at why.

"Terry tries," she said. "But he's so nervous and I forget sometimes," she said. "I've learned to be around him because Birdie's normally with him. But he's nervous, and it makes me nervous. I don't understand why he's so scared of me."

"He's afraid he'll say something to upset you," he said with too much understanding in his voice. His eyes met Annalie's for a moment before he broke the gaze. He didn't mean to meet her eye, and he hadn't been expecting for her to turn to look at him at that moment.

"How do you know that?"

"I have scars like you do," he said simply. It really wasn't all that dissimilar either.

"Oh," Annalie said thoughtfully, starting to work on putting plates together. "Help me," she said. Jazen knew an order when he heard one. He walked over and rolled up his sleeves, helping her get the plates together for when Birdie came back for them.

"Why did you ask for me?" he asked.

"You looked at me like you understood. It wasn't fear,or lust or pity, you just knew," she said. "And besides… I don't want to panic every time I see a male," she said.

"It's inconvenient," he said like he understood.

"It's a weakness, an obvious one I don't want to have," she said. She glanced over at Jazen and he felt a little surprised by the strength in her eyes. She was terrified. She was in a new place where nothing was like she knew, and she could tell that she needed to be better and that no one would force her to but she was forcing herself.

"You have a lot of courage," Jazen said. "Probably more than me," he said. He wouldn't have made the journey to Kaeleer alone. Daemon brought him only because he felt a bit of companionship with him and didn't want to force him to stay in a place with no one to protect him. That had bit more than a little, but Jazen had followed because he like so many others craved something, anything like a life.

"No, I was just too scared to stay where I was," she said.

"Where were you before?" he asked, feeling like she wanted him to ask, like there was something she was bursting to say, a secret that she shouldn't have but she needed someone to hear it.

"I'm from Dhemlan Terrielle," she said. "I lived in a little village called New Hallaway, a place made for people who left the old Hallaway when it started to turn," she said. "But the taint stuck to everything," she said. "And eventually it came to my village, like the lies about the black widows, and the slaves and everything else," she said.

"My grandmother used to say that our people were strong and we fought because the High Lord of Hell protected us, but I didn't know he was even real until I got here and heard he used to be alive here," she said. "And I hated him then, because how could he possibly have left us alone. My grandmother said that he took care of us, but where was he when Dhemlan finally broke and when Dorothea ruled everything and when the witch storm killed so many and when the landens attacked or anywhere in the past century where we've all starved and suffered with nothing?" she asked him, but she didn't expect an answer her.

"He didn't care about us because we, by mere association of where we lived weren't as dark, weren't as good, and he stopped helping. And then the bastard up and died and his son won't even look our way!" she snapped.

Jazen was silent for a moment, not wanting to upset her any more or make her have another attack, but she annoyed him. Daemon SaDiablo was a great man, one Jazen both liked and respected. He never wanted to work for anyone else, and she'd just insulted that man who had understood him and helped him when no one else could even touch him. "You realize that you live in a territory ruled by the man you just called a bastard?" he asked, but she didn't notice the ice in his voice.

"Because if I went anywhere else it would be so unfamiliar I wouldn't be able to stand it, not because I like or even respect him. This land is so wealthy and all of terrielle is suffering and broken with no hope, no help, and no one who can do anything about it," she hissed.

"Now-" he started, but cut himself off. He didn't think about Terrielle, didn't like to think about it. As such he never had considered what happened to the place after Jaenelle unleashed her attack against Dorothea and the others she'd tainted. Suddenly he wondered what would happen to the men like him who had no one to guide them, no help, not real funds, with the only thing that bound them all together, Protocol, being so bastardized that none of them would be able to really improve. Could they form anything better than what they had from the understanding they had from before Dorothea died? He doubted it.

"You're right, we shouldn't be talking about this," she said softly. "There's no one else I can tell because Terry worked for the bastard, and everyone else is either afraid of him or enamored of him," she said darkly before sighing again. She glanced up, seeing Birdie come in to collect the plates.

"It seems you two are getting along well," Birdie said, winking as she left. It was Jazen's turn to sigh. What was with that wink? What did she think he was trying to do? Oh well.

"You were saying?" he asked, starting to work on my plates.

'It's nothing. It's too heavy a discussion for now," she said. "I don't even know you… hey, you're not going to tell anyone, are you?" she asked.

"Why would I tell?" he asked.

"I don't know, to get me in trouble, improve your place around here?" she suggested.

"It doesn't work that way here," Jazen said. "Besides, I have a good enough place here, thank you very much," he said.

"Are you looking down on my homeland too?" she asked, starting to sizzle.

"No, I'm from there too," he said.

"Really?" she asked, sounding nearly breathless with want, a want he knew, someone to understand.

"Yes, but I don't like thinking about it," he said firmly and watched with a pang of guilt as her face fell.

"Alright then, Warlord, I won't mention it again," she said.

"Jazen, just Jazen," he corrected.

She looked at him for a moment. "Malene calls you Jazzy," she said.

"Over my express wishes, but she out ranks me and she's Malene," he pointed out, which made her smile just the tiniest bit. It was a nice smile, something that made his heart ache a little and her chalked it up to him knowing how hard a smile could be to get from someone who was hurt.

"Okay, then just Jazen," she said. "Umm…" she hesitated, starting to stir the soup nervously. "Umm… I suppose… that, if you want that is… that is, if you want, I suppose that um… You can call me Annalie," she said.

Jazen smiled a little. "Then I will call you Annalie, if you don't mind, that is," he said.

Annalie looked at him, looking nervous, too nervous. He realized how close they were and he took a very steps back, keeping his hands up where she could see them. He didn't stop moving until he noted the slight twitch in her shoulders, a small slump. Then he stopped and he shoulders relaxed completely.

"Th… thank you," she said quietly and went back to cooking. They didn't speak again during the rush. They didn't speak again until he said goodbye to her when he planned to go home. She didn't speak to him, merely shrugged in acknowledgement. She'd reached her limit, and he appreciated that. It took a lot to talk to him at all, he expected.

* * *

Jazen returned to the Hall, considering her words. They didn't really take hold of his mind until the next morning, when he was working with Prince SaDiablo's clothes. "May I ask you a question?" he asked Daemon, who was busy brushing his hair.

"Yes," his employer said, glancing at him from the mirror.

"Has any help been sent to Terrielle?" Jazen asked, stopping to look at the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan.

"There is, in Shalador Nehele," he said.

"No, I mean outside of that," Jazen said.

"No, not from Dhemlan, or from the outside territories that I am aware of," Daemon said, his eyes narrowing a bit. "Why?" he asked.

"Curious," Jazen answered, but now he was thinking. "Do you think that the people in those other territories will be able to rebuild without the correct Protocol?" he asked.

Daemon considered it. "Some will search for it, and go to Shalador Nehele, which some have… and some will go to the Keep, which some have as well," he added. "But no, most won't," he said.

"Will the blood survive in the places that don't?" Jazen asked.

"Jazen, what's wrong?" Daemon asked.

"Nothing," Jazen said. "I just had a thought, one that wouldn't go away," he said, sounding as distracted as he was.

"Jazen," Daemon said, and his employee knew enough to snap out of his thoughts and look at him. "How did yesterday go?"

"Better than I thought," Jazen said. "She didn't have a panic attack," he said. That was something to be grateful for, anyway. "Why did you send me?" he asked. Daemon had insisted he go, but hadn't said why. He'd assumed it was as pay back for something, but Daemon's question was neither idle nor amused.

"Because if it was you, then she wouldn't have such a large panic attack," Daemon said.

"How do you know that?" Jazen asked, casting his eyes at the hand that hid Daemon's snake tooth. He knew where it was well enough for when it caught on Daemon's sleeve and caused little picks.

"Not that," Daemon said. "We do employ women who have had problems before. You don't think I notice, but you are one of the first people called to help," he said. "You are careful with them and they calm down," he said. His eyes met Jazen's. "You were hurt, so you understand pain," he said simply.

"Yes, sir," Jazen said quietly.

"Are there any other questions?"

"No, sir."

"Then I have to see Marcus," Daemon said. "Have a good day Warlord." And with that he left, leaving Jazen alone and with much to think about.

* * *

Yeah, author notes and fun facts time!

First off, my roommate was making a joke about fanfiction only being about sex. I feel like I need to clarify this.

Second, I know I really annoyed the hell out of some of you when I started talking about Saetan. I recently got my friend to (finally) start reading the series. She's only half way through the first book and her complaints about Saetan are already my complaints, but we both agree that we truly, truly love him. He's just very loveable. We also agreed that this series is a Christian analogy, whether it was meant to be that or not… but come on, Jaenelle (whose name starts with a J) is a Christ figure. There's the trinity, and Saetan is in many ways God himself. What this means is that when I start arguing about why Saetan has such seriously flaws of judgment that causes a lot of the series problems and someone mentions honor I end up having to bring up that he kept out of a lot of it because he's dead and doesn't want the dead to influence the living, and the next thing you know I'm talking about the free will debate and I need to bang my head against a table.

Third, Birdie is a name I picked off the Black Jewels Wiki at random. Normally I put an insane amount of work into the names I use. Dhemlan names (I've noticed) are rather like Scandinavian names, as are Eryien names. Hayllian names are specifically greek in origin. Annalie is a Dhemlan witch, so her name is of a Scandinavian origin. Birdia came because I saw the name on a list of characters, on the BJT Wiki and couldn't remember who that was. It turns out she's a maid (or a cook… wow, I forgot already) who works in the Grayhaven mansion. I've read most of the books many times, and I remember many of the names, but this is one I just couldn't remember at all. I'm rereading the last 2 books now.

Also, super thank you for the reviews. I will do another read and fix later on these chapters. Yeah, so I wrote Daemon, but I don't like writing him that much. I'm not sure I did okay. I don't think this story has a lot of humor, but I promise it picks up.


	3. Chapter 3

Jazen didn't sigh the next time he had a day off. Daemon had sent him to see Annalie three times. She was getting better. He still couldn't get close, but they could talk about quiet, easy things. In truth, he found that he liked spending time with her. She was very sassy, and he couldn't help but be reminded of the Queens who used to spend their time in the Hall, friends of Lady Angelline's. She reminded him of them, but not in the same way either, just the rightness of her. She belonged in Kaeleer, it was obvious to him.

And she was so sharp. It had surprised him a bit, because of how meek she seemed at first. He'd assumed she would be like Marian, who had strength, buti t was much more subtle. Finally, Jazen had asked Annalie about it.

"_I hate it," she said. "It's like when I'm around a male my whole self is locked up. I am unable to just be myself. I'm so constricted. It's this fear, fear that if I open my mouth again that it will happen again… and then I'm reliving it, and I can't speak to anyone. I just… panic," she said lamely, looking to him for understanding. _

"_I understand," he said, and he did. They left it alone after that._

That had been the last time he'd been there. Now it was his day off, and he was heading to Terry's. He would have breakfast and then he would head to town. That wasn't unnormal for him, but today it was special. Annalie had been working for Terry and Birdie for a while, and so she'd racked up plenty of marks but didn't really have the things she needed for herself. To that end, she hadn't gone out because Birdie hadn't had a free day, and she didn't feel like she could help her is she had an attack out in public, and she didn't want to go without a male escort. Jazen understood, which was why he had offered to take Annalie.

He was happy to go. Annalie had relaxed around him. She understood that something at happened to him, something that had caused him a lot of pain, but she didn't push and she didn't judge. She knew exactly what Terrielle was like, and when he mentioned that he'd lived in Draega before he'd escaped to Kaeleer she'd understood that he'd experienced terrible brutality. No judgements, no questions. They both preferred it that way.

"So," Annalie said, adjusting her hat. She'd braided back her hair. It looked very messy. Her hat and clothing were not flattering. He knew the symptoms. Sometimes when a girl got hurt she would wear the most unflattering things, like armor. Lady Karla had even cut her hair very short. The only time he'd seen her with longer hair was when she'd finally found a lover. She'd grow it out a little before cutting it again when she decided that she liked the ease of short hair. Besides that, the spikes just fit her personality better.

"So?" he asked in a level tone.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"The hair salon," Jazen said. He watched as she eyed him suspiciously and tugged her brade over her shoulder, running her fingers over it in a way that made it even more messy. "Your hair's lovely but a short hair cut might be more conducive to the kitchen, especially since you seem to hate putting it up," he explained.

She seemed to consider that. "Isn't it not allowed for women to have short hair here?" she asked. Most, if not all women wore their hair long in Terrielle and always had. Girl's didn't have short hair. It just wasn't done.

"There have been many women who decided on short cuts," Jazen said. "I know of three very prominent Queens who had very short cuts at least once in their life. I also know a young Eryien woman who has a very short cut, calls it a pixie, it's short like a man's hair cut," he said.

He forced his lips from a smile as he saw Annalie's eyes widen. "Why would she do that?"

"She's training as an Eryien warrior. She told me that hair that short keeps another warrior from having an extra hand hold," he said. He watched Annaline consider these words. For certain there would never have been an Eryien woman training as a warrior in Terrielle, but it was more than that. Jazen had specifically mentioned Jillian for a reason.

"How does the cut look?" she asked.

Jazen shrugged. "It suits her. Not every many likes that kind of cut, but I think it looks good on her," he said.

Annalie went quiet again, thinking. "Do you think they'd know how to cut hair like that here?" she asked.

"Definitely," Jazen said, opening the salon door from Annalie, following her once she'd entered.

"My head feels so light," Annalie said as they left the store. Her fingers could stop petting the short hairs on her head, as if surprised that there wasn't hair there any longer.

* * *

"You must have lost about twenty pounds of hair during that cut," Jazen teased. Her hair had been down to her waist when they'd walked in. Now that they walked out there seemed to be barely anything there, but she wasn't wearing that ugly hat anymore. There seemed to be a lightness to the way she walked, and he knew it came from the top of her head. She was safer now, there was no hand hold and many, many less men would be interested in her in her hair was short… or so she saw it.

Jazen was surprised. She looked adorable with her hair so short. He'd carefully suggested the cut because he thought it would help her feel better, but it actually looked very good on her. Such a style suited Jillian because it had to, but it just suited Annalie.

"Tease," she said. "For that, you can carry my hat," she said.

Like he wasn't already. "Of course," he said, trying not to smile.

"So, now where?" she asked.

"Birdie told me that you needed to buy lingerie," he said.

Annalie froze. She'd been starting to walk down the path, admittedly nearer to the walls, keeping Jazen between her and the other people (the other males) on the street. Now she was frozen, staring at him with her mouth open.

"What?" he asked with a smile like he had no idea what was wrong.

"How can you just say that?" she asked.

"What? It's not a big deal," he said, forcing himself not to smile.

"But you're a man!" she declared.

"I'm in personal service," he said, fighting very hard not to smile.

"To a man," she said.

"To a man who had no problem dealing with such things," Jazen said. She still had no idea who he worked for, and he intended to keep it that way.

"I can't believe that," she snorted, starting to walk again.

"His wife used to work in a red moon house," he said.

"Did he meet her there?" she asked.

Jazen laughed a bit and shook his head. "No, they met when they were younger," he said, fudging a lot of the details, though nothing he said was untrue.

"How can that be?" she asked.

"My employer is a self made man," he said. "He did it under the worst of circumstances too," he said.

"You really admire him, don't you?" Annalie asked.

"He saved my life," he said. "I could not admire him more," he said.

"I think maybe I'd like to meet him," she said. Jazen suddenly felt a bit of panic in his stomach.

"How come?" he asked, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

"He must be something incredible if you like him that much," she said.

Jazen was silent, considering for a few minutes. "Then I'll let you meet him one day, but only after you've gotten better," he said.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"When you can stand at a reasonable distance and shake his hand, as a stranger, then I'll take you to meet him," Jazen said.

"Is that okay?" she asked.

"It's more than okay," he told her. He knew she was probably a greater education on that one day on what Kaeleer was like than she had in the past months since she'd arrived. "Anyway, we're here," he said. They'd walked right to the lingerie store.

"Are you really going in with me?" she asked, sounding grumpy.

"Of course? How else am I going to offer you suggestions if I'm not in there to see the selection?" He actually did laugh this time when he saw her mouth drop open.

"You're not a man!" she declared, and he felt like he'd been stabbed in an old wound. His face must have shown it too, for her tone changed completely. "I'm sorry," she said.

He shook his head. "I know what you mean, don't worry," he said. "But, now, you can't argue about me making suggestions," he said, opening the door for her to go in.

Annalie laughed. "You're such a mess."

"At your service," he said, following her inside.

* * *

Annalie was surprised at all Jazen knew. She didn't know that not only had he attended Daemon SaDiablo in the past into such stores (normally for Winsol shopping), but he'd also gone with some of the female servants who worked in the Hall, especially if they were uncomfortable with going alone. He's also been dragged to such stores by his sisters, and the lady's of some of his past employers. He didn't get embarrassed anymore.

"There's nothing like what I normally wear here," she finally admitted after a few moments.

"What do you normally wear?" he asked, watching her blush. "Oh stop it," he said. "If you're going to bring it up then what else can I do but ask?" he pointed out.

"Well," she said, understanding that he was talking about business. It wasn't personal. "Normally a lot thicker," she admitted.

"Ah, old lady underwear," he said.

"What?" she spluttered over a peel of laughter.

"What my little sister used to call what I think you're describing," he said.

"Well, you have a very interesting sister," Annalie said, smiling and no longer worried.

"Yes, she was quiet… spunky," he said, since it was the nicest thing he could say, and it earned another little laugh from Annalie.

"I bet she dragged you out shopping too," she said.

"I could either be embarrassed or learn something," he said. "And I chose to learn something," he said. He guided her over to a particular rack. "Here, start here," he said.

"I don't know," she said, picking up a pair and eyeing the bows like they would bite her.

"You should just try," he told her. "My mother used to say that lingerie isn't for a man, well, only for a special man on special occasions," he added, seeing Annalie look disbelieving. "But men don't have to wear these things. They're what you wear. It's something pretty and nice that you can wear even under the more covering and unflattering outfit. It's like a secret, and because of that it's special," he explained.

Annalie looked at him like he was crazy for a moment before looking down at what she held in her hand. "Will they let me try things on?"

"Of course!" he said, waving over a saleswoman. "Here, they'll help you with size and fittings," he explained before turning her over to the woman.

"Okay," Annalie said in a small voice.

* * *

She hadn't expected shopping for underwear would take so long. She needed to go, but she'd planned to just grab a few things in her size and go, but she quickly discovered that the saleswomen and Jazen were both very opinionate. Not that he got to see her in her underwear; he just sent back things for her to try on. She did try them on, as embarrassing as it was, and she left the store with plenty of undergarments. Jazen even carried the bag for her.

Jazen was nice, kind. She felt like he wouldn't hurt her. He was hurt like her, that she knew. Sometimes hurt people were actually the most terrifying, most likely to hurt others. But Jazen wasn't like that. He knew exactly what to say to her to make her feel comfortable and safe. It was actually kind of scary, or it would be if she wasn't sure that he was afraid of hurting her. He'd back off the second he pushed to far, but he kept pushing, like he wanted her to heal.

She reached up, stroking her short hair self consciously. She wasn't stupid, after getting the cut, actually while she was trying on undergarments, she'd figured out that he'd actually been manipulating her. But it wasn't a bad kind, she knew the bad kind… but she knew the good too. The good kind was what someone would use to get people what they wanted. She'd wanted to feel safe, to feel like her appearance wasn't going to be able to be used against her. He found a way to do that, and made her safer in the process.

"Now what are we going to do?" Annalie found herself asked, glancing at Jazen's empty hands. He'd vanished both her hat and the bags.

"I figured we could find you some new clothes and then lunch," he said.

"Clothes shopping could take a while," she said.

"Are you hinting that you want food now?" he asked. She smiled a small bit.

"Maybe…" she crooned. "Jazen… thank you for helping me today. I know it's your day off and all…" he said.

"No, it's my pleasure, lady," Jazen said. "Besides, my day offs are normally just me trying to find something to do," he said.

"Really?" she asked. "I'm sure you have friends… or your family?" she asked.

"My friends are the people I work with, or the people at the store I frequent. My family… well…" he shrugged.

"Your family?" she asked.

"I don't know where they are," he admitted.

"How can that be?" she asked.

"I left them a long time ago, and then the purge," he shrugged. "Please, I don't want to talk about this," he said.

"Jazen," she said.

"Annalie, please, just drop it," he said. It hurt, but he didn't know where they were, or if they were even still alive. His family had tried… well, some of them had tried. His father, and his sister and a couple of aunts and uncles… but… he shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"You know…" Annalie started, changing the subject. "I have one day off a week too," she said. "Maybe… we could line days up and… I don't know," she shrugged.

"We can't go shopping every time," Jazen said.

"I know!" Annalie said. "Smart ass."

"Guilty," he said with a smile and she returned his smile. "But, I think I would like to spend my day off with you," he said.

"Brilliant!" Annalia said, reaching out and grabbing his hand, squeezing it. It was such a natural movement that he had to wonder whose hand she'd held like that. And for just a moment he felt insanely jealous of that person, whoever they were. "Oh, sorry!" she said, pulling her hand away.

"No, it's okay, whatever you're comfortable with," he said.

"Maybe I don't want to be comfortable," she said softly. "Comfortable is safe but…"

"But safe isn't living," he supplied.

"Yeah," she said softly. "Jazen, I think you understand me better than just about anyone," she said. "And I hate that more than anything."

"I understand," he said. "I hate it too, on your side," he added. "So, can I ask you a question?"

"What is it?"

"The bastard who hurt you, if he dead?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Can I ask how?"

"My mother cut it off him," she said. "And then she set up a web so that no one could get to him until he bled himself dead," she said, smiling at that. "And then they executed her for being a black widow," she said, looking so, so sad.

"I'm sorry," Jazen said. "That you had to be hurt like that… twice like that because of someone not worth the blood that was in his veins and the air he breathed," he said.

"Thanks," she said. "So, can I ask you a question?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"The person who hurt you… are they dead?" she asked.

"Yes, she is," he said with such finality that she didn't dare ask more.

"You're a good man, Jazen. I think how ever she died wasn't bad enough for her… whatever she did," Annalie said.

"Thank you… but I assure you, it was just payment," he said. The purge was more than enough just payment.

"Mmmkay," she said.

"Your mother was a black widow?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, stiffening a bit.

"Are you one too?" he asked. She didn't need to answer, the way she stiffened. "That's why you were broken, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then that bastard deserved far, far more than he got," Jazen said.

"Jazen," she said softly. "Is it true that black widows can practice openly here?" she asked.

"Yes, it's true," he said. He paused in his walking, realizing she'd stopped as well, a soft sob climbing up her throat. He called in a handkerchief, carefully starting to wipe away her tears, but being careful not to touch her skin. "Annalie?"

"Damn," she said softly, taking the handkerchief with her shaking hand, trying to dry her own tears, but they just kept coming. "Damn, damn, damn," she said. "Damn," she said belatedly.

"It's okay," Jazen said, guiding her over to the side of the path so they'd be out of the way and she could lean against a building, which she did. "It's okay to cry," he said.

"If I'd come here sooner, I'd have been safe, wouldn't I have been?" she asked.

"Yes," Jazen said.

"Damn… damn Dorothea to the bowels of hell!" she shouted. "I hate her, I hate that bitch so much. It's all her fault!" she screamed.

"Yes, yes it is," he said so coldly that it shocked her.

"Did you ever meet her?" she asked, after a moment of silence as she furious wiped at her eyes.

"I wouldn't call meeting what we did," he said blankly. At that moment she looked up and she understood exactly who's hurt Jazen and she hated the woman even more.

"Okay," she said softly.

"Come on… maybe we should have lunch first," he said. "You can go to the powder room and wash your face," he said. "And we can eat something and try to think of other things," he said.

"You didn't deserve it, Jazen, I know you didn't," she said. His breath caught in his throat no one, no one but Daemon SaDiablo had ever assumed that… though he wondered if she still would once she found out what he'd lost.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"You're welcome," she said softly. "So… lunch?" she asked.

Jazen nodded, happy to be changing the subject. "Yeah, lunch sounds good."

* * *

A/N:

Yeah! You guys totally should thank me for this Christmas present! I wrote two fanfiction chapters during a ten hour car trip. The other chapter is the second chapter of my other BJT story: Kermilla's second chance. I think I like this story better… but I have a hard time writing bad guys. I'm excited for when I get to introduce the main male for that story… also, isn't Jazen sweet? I love him so much. Annalie's shaping up well too. She's actually very sassy, but it'll show up more later.

Thanks for reading! Give me tons of reviews!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yuck, still fairly sick, but the closer I get to finishing any of these over my holiday, the more likely they are to actually get done.

* * *

Jazen didn't really know why he was going… okay, he knew exactly why, but truthfully he knew the danger of going. Tersa was a bit mad, but she was a sweet woman. He'd met her once or twice and he hoped that she remembered him and wouldn't panic. He also hoped that this wouldn't get back to his employer before he had a chance to explain, because he was afraid that there were certain things he would have to explain if he didn't get back soon enough.

He'd picked a time when he knew the Journeymaid Black Widow who was staying with Tersa wouldn't be there, and he picked a morning that he had the option of taking off, even if he rarely used it. He even sweetened the deal with some pastries he'd bought in town, part of which were being sent to Annalie as a little surprise, but they helped with his cover too.

Midmorning he arrived at Tersa's home, the cottage with the nice yard, close enough to town to get help and food easily, but far enough away so that the people wouldn't bother Tersa when she was having one of her less lucid moments. He walked to the door and knocked, waiting and hoping. He suddenly had a bunch of doubts, like what if the Black Widow hadn't left, or what if Tersa freaked out when she saw him.

His thoughts stopped when Tersa opened the door. Her hair was wild, her body thin, but her eyes were clear, she wasn't having a wild moment. "I was expecting you, come in," she said. Jazen, stunned by this came in and let her lead him to the table.

"I brought you something," he finally remembered, opening the tin and slipping it over to her.

Tersa glanced at the treats he'd brought and went to the cold box. "Milk goes with treats," she said, starting to pour them both a glass.

"Yes, I've always thought so," he said.

She turned and looked at him and a felt a bit like he'd been punched in the gut. Oh yes, she was a lot of what made Daemon Sadi who he was. "No sass," she said.

"No sass, missus, just truth. I'm just of an odd sort," he explained.

She considered him for a moment before going to get plates. "My boy doesn't know you're here?"

"I'd really like to keep it that way," Jazen said and Tersa gave him another one of those looks that made him shiver.

"Why are you here?"

"I have a friend who's a broken Black Widow, I want her to meet you," he said, feeling like if he even eased into it that he might die before the conversation ended.

Tersa looked confused, cocking her head to one side, momentarily slipping away before returning. "Why must the boy not know?"

"She doesn't like him. " He saw a flash of anger. "She doesn't know him, but she is from Dhemlan Terrielle."

"The High Lord made a mistake there," Tersa said, as if she was speaking to herself. She moved around the room for a few moments as if completely aimless before returning and putting pastries on two plates, and slipping one over to him. "The boy can fix many things, but he can't fix that as he should be able to."

"No, he can't." Jazen said, "and the entire household is willing to stand between him and trying to," he added.

Tersa nodded. "Yes, the boy can't know," she said.

"Lady Tersa?" Jazen started.

"Just Tersa," she said.

"I'm sorry, but I'm much more comfortable calling you lady. Calling you by your name is too familiar for a servant," he said.

"Fine, ask," she said, sitting down and starting to eat one of the pastries he'd gotten her. He took a moment to sip his milk before plunging forward.

"Annalie, that's my friend, I think she needs someone to show her what she can still do, because I know there are things she can still do," he added.

Tersa nodded. "Some need madness, most need it, not all," she said.

"She needs someone," he said. "Who understands her in a way that I can't."

"Your scars run deep like a river, hers run jagged like lightening. Hers will live somethings always broken and less, but they will heal. Yours will not heal," she said. Jazen felt his throat hitch up and he looked at her.

"I am healed, I am not less," he said.

"You are not healed, but you are not less," she said. "Eat your pastry," she instructed and he did as he was told. They didn't not speak again until both had eaten a considerable number of pastries and Jazen had washed the dishes and was heading to leave.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said politely.

"I will not tell the boy," Tersa said.

"Thank you," Jazen said and left, returning to the Hall.

* * *

A few days passed in relative silence. Nothing extraordinary happened, at least by the terms of the house hold. Jaenelle Saetien was a handful by any count, and he was glad that he mostly didn't have to be dragged into her antics. Somehow the little girl decided that he needed to be more refined and her papa needed to be more rumpled. Jazen didn't argue on that point.

The day before he was to take his day off, right before he was about to head to bed one of the other servants came to get him on Prince SaDiablo's request. Jazen pulled his jacket back on and followed, wondering what could be wrong, but afraid that his employer had found out about his visit to Tersa.

He was left alone in the High Lord's sitting room. Jazen remembered having come in when Daemon's father was still alive and ruling from that room, remembered the first time he ever met the man, how terrified he was. He had, at the time, labored under the mistaken belief that this man was the one who would decide his fate. He hadn't understood at the time that Saetan SaDiablo not only accepted what happened to him, but accepted him after Jaenelle had accepted him. It had been a meeting about work, nothing else, and when he'd finally worked up the courage to ask about his fears, the High Lord had simply smiled and told him that Jaenelle accepted him, and that was the only proof he needed.

That was the only time he'd been under the High Lord's scrutiny, and in some ways this was the first time he'd been under this High Lord's scrutiny. Prince SaDiablo knew him and spoke to him mostly on the level of employer to employee, though it was a friendly relationship. This was not the case today. This was the High Lord addressing another male whom he ruled over.

"High Lord," Jazen said as he entered.

"Take a seat," the High Lord said, his eyes slightly glazed over, enough to make Jazen very wary. He did as he was told. "Can you explain this?" the High Lord asked, holding up a letter.

"High Lord?" Jazen asked, actually having no idea what he was being shown. The man across the desk slipped it over, and Jazen carefully picked it up, careful because he did not want to touch the other man.

The letter itself was brief, written in a neat handwriting and signed by a messy signature, Tersa's signature. He was sure that she had dictated to the Black Widow, who had softened the `other woman's more blunt language. The letter asked for Jazen and Annelie to visit Tersa the next day. Daemon was to stay home. End of letter, end of argument.

Jazen felt a bit relieved, and he showed it, because he was about to spin a lie. "This is good," he said.

"Good?" the High Lord crooned, on the edge of something very nasty.

"Annalie… she's a black widow," Jazen said. He hadn't told anyone about it except Tersa. "If Lady Tersa wants to see her, then it must be a way to help her, right?" he asked.

The High Lord sat back, considering. He could tell there wasn't something right about all of this, but he could also tell that it wasn't very bad. Prince SaDiablo blew out a bit of air, making his bangs fly up for a moment before settling back across his forehead. "Alright," he said. "It looks like you've been requested as an escort," he said.

"It's fine," Jazen said. "I was going to see Annalie tomorrow anyway. I'll just have to rearrange my plans is all," he said. Which was true. He'd had plans about how to sneak over to Tersa's cottage, but the Black Widow and saved him from having to do that.

"Of course, you can't really ignore this type of summons," the Prince said, looking at the letter again and leaning back in his chair. He sighed. "You may go," he said.

"Thank you, High Lord," Jazen said and left, letting out a sigh of relief only when he was back in his own room.

* * *

The next day Jazen went to fetch Annalie, after a short breakfast at Terry's. He didn't tell her where they were going, only that it was someplace important, but he could tell she was becoming more and more suspicious and wary as they got further and further away from town. She didn't know what injuries he had. She didn't know that he couldn't rape her even if he wanted to. All she knew was that a man was taking her away from other people, and the last time that had happened she'd lost almost everything.

"Where are we going?" she asked, trying so hard not to sound nervous. She knew her fear would hurt Jazen. If it weren't for that fact that it was him who was taking her, and not someone else then she would have already been panicking. But Jazen was good, he wouldn't hurt her.

"To see someone," he said.

"Who?" she asked.

"A friend," he said. "Someone who can help you," he added.

That should have made her feel better, he probably thought it would, but it made her more scared, so much so that they had to stop walking. She'd heard that line before, back when people were talking about locking up Black Widows and breaking them, for their own good of course. They were too unstable, they couldn't be around normal people. Annalie hated it, but she could feel an attack coming.

"Annalie, Annalie, please calm down," Jazen said, knowing that she was about to panic. He took her a few steps back away from their destination, which seemed to help a tiny bit. "I'm taking you to see my employer's mother," he finally said. "She's a Dhemlan witch, a black widow, and broken like you… but still very gifted," he said.

Annalie, who'd bent over some when the attack started to come on looked up at him. "You're taking me so see another black widow?" she asked, looking confused.

"A very gifted one, no jewels, but still powerful," he said. "She told me that she'd try to help you," he assured her.

"Why would you do this?" she asked.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore," he told her. "You don't have to be scared, or hide. Not everyone here is good, but most are, and they are the ones in charge," he explained. "You could have gone to one of the Hourglass Covens for help months ago and they would have done anything to help you," he said.

"Then why aren't you taking me there?" she demanded, because the idea of going to such a place made her stomach churn. Covens like that were no longer good places to be in Terreille.

"Because I thought you'd do better with Lady Tersa," he said. "Now, can we go?" he asked.

"Yes," Annalie said shakily, letting him lead her the rest of the way, having to lean on him toward the end of the journey because her legs were so shaky from fear. But she trusted him. Jazen was good, he would never hurt her, he was good.

Most of her fears went away when she saw where they were headed, a lovely little cottage, away from people, but close enough to get whatever was needed, with a garden, growing the plants Black Widows needed. It was lovely, secluded, safe. She took a deep breath; though her legs still shook the pounding fear had been driven away.

They walked up to the house and Jazen had to be careful of how he moved so he wouldn't ruin her balance as he knocked on the door. An opal jeweled Journeymaid Black Widow opened the door. "Lord Jazen," the woman said. "Tersa is waiting for you," she said, standing aside to let them in. "I'm headed out to the store. Make sure she eats while I'm gone," the woman instructed before leaving the house.

"I bet Lady Tersa sent her away," Jazen said with a little smile. He led Annalie into the kitchen where he heard humming. There Tersa was, working on removing nut cakes from a tray to stack them on a plate. It would probably be a good idea for him to take a few to his employer, especially if he didn't want to answer too many questions.

"Sister, Warlord," Tersa said when she turned around. Jazen was relieved at how clear her eyes were. A lucid moment, very lucid.

"Sister," Annalie greeted, moving away from Jazen, offering her hands, palm up, to the other woman, who responded by laying her hands on top of Annalie's. It was a traditional greeting.

"Come, sit, both of you," she said. "The cakes need to cool, but they're for after lunch," she said.

"Why don't I make lunch," Jazen offered. "And you can talk," he said.

"Yes, yes," she said. "Sandwiches are good," she said and went to sit down next to Annalie.

Jazen smiled and began the task of making lunch. It wasn't hard. The ice box was well stocked and the bread was fairly fresh. The Black Widow who left didn't need any more food for a while, so she was either going person shopping, or she had been thrown out o the house.

"What is your name?" Tersa asked.

"Annalie."

"Tersa," the older woman responded. "Call me by my name, I will call you by yours," she said.

"Yes, Tersa," Annalie said with a smile. She was relaxing some, feeling better because she was with a Dhemlan witch, and another Black Widow.

"You are broken," Tersa said. "Like me and not like me," she said.

"Not like you?" Annalie asked.

"Tersa is a broken chalice," she said and Annalie shivered, knowing what that meant.

"Is that how you reclaimed your abilities?" Annalie asked. She could feel power from the other woman, power that didn't have to do with jewels.

"Tersa could have without the Twisted Kingdom, but Tersa did not have the time," she said. "You have the time," she said.

"You mean I can… be like you?" Annalie, asked in awe. A chance to reclaim even a small part of what she was locked out of seemed like a miracle.

"Yes, you will," Tersa said. "But you must be careful, and do as Tersa says," the older woman said. "Thank you," she added when Jazen settled a surprisingly high stacked plate of small sandwiches in front of them and three plates down on the table. "Milk, I think," Tersa said.

"You read my mind," Jazen said, already working on pouring three glasses.

"Jazen, do you really like milk? Terry thinks it's something you do to annoy him," Annalie asked.

"I really do like milk, it's just a plus that it annoys me," he said. Annalie laughed, warm and wonderful. Jazen was glad his back was turned, because he needed a moment to settle the blush that lit up his face.

"How did it happen?" Tersa asked suddenly and they all went quietly. Tersa was waiting for an answer.

"Lady Tersa, would you mind if I used your facilities?" Jazen asked. Annalie wasn't going to say with him around, that he knew.

"Up stairs, remember to wash your hands," Tersa said.

"Yes ma'am," he said with a little smile. He took his time with everything, even scrubbing his hands until they were red to try and take as much time as Annalie needed to tell the story. He took an obscenely long time climbing down the stairs, but he heard laughing from the kitchen and made his steps normal, assuming it would be okay to enter.

"What took you so long, we were starting to wonder if you fell in," Annalie said, laughing more when she saw Jazen's face light up with a bit of embarrassment.

"You seem to be in a better mood," Jazen said dryly, walking over to his seat, about to grab at sandwiches when Annalie grabbed his wrist.

"Did you wash your hands?" she teased, sticking her tongue out at him. Yeah, she was back to normal.

"Enough to make my hands bleed," Jazen said dryly, shaking away from her hold and getting a few sandwiches, starting to eat. He took a moment to eat one of the little things to find something to say. "You seem to be in a good mood," he said.

"Tersa was showing me something she made for one of her boys," Annalie said.

Tersa smiled and pulled a handkerchief off a little glass ball, where a little mouse was inside, dressed up very primly with a long roll of parchment in his paws. He seemed to be giving a speech. Jazen was glad he wasn't eating, because a loud snort of laughter escaped his mouth when he saw it. He'd seen it in Lucivar Yaslana's possession before, so he knew damn well that this was just a copy… but it was still funny.

He glanced over at Annalie, since she'd started laughing again as well (though probably at him this time). When he saw her face, looked at her in the eyes he felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. In her eyes was so much want, she wanted to be able to do what Tersa had done and for a moment Jazen felt very torn. He felt like he wanted her to look at him like that, a though he quickly kicked to the curb because it would do him now good. He felt like he wanted to make sure that she could have what she wanted, and he focused on that.

"Lady Tersa, can you teach Annalie to do that?" he asked, because knew Annalie wouldn't.

Tersa's eyes lit up with a bit of mischief. "If you call me Tersa, and not lady," she said, smirking in a way that was too much like Daemon Sadi when he had his valet wrangled into something he couldn't escape.

"Fine," he said. "Tersa," he added, wincing at how it sounded coming from his mouth, but both of the women in the room laughed. Even he smiled a bit. Yes, his discomfort would be well worth it.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hello my readers, yes, I know I took time to write other things, but now I'm back on this. I think this one may be the best of the four, and it's not that it's hard to write, but the insanity of _The Pride_ or my newest one is much more alluring, but I really like the subtlety of this one a lot. Anyway, back to our show.

* * *

Eight weeks, Eight days off, Eight trips to Tersa's house with Annalie. He was watching her improve. She'd already known she could do simple webs, but Tersa was teaching her how to be a Black Widow. Tersa was better at showing than explaining. If she tried to explain she would often get lost midsentence or completely lose what she meant to say. Even when Tersa was just showing she often spoke, just mumbles and things. Jazen couldn't begin to understand it, but Annalie seemed to soak it all up.

He was watching her improve. He watched her webs become more complex, watched her be able to do simple illusions, watched her show off. He couldn't stifle the feeling that if she hadn't been broken that she would have been terribly gifted… that her being broken had been such a waste of potential. He'd seen a lot of girls like that, but none of them ever made him so angry. Sometimes he would just lie in his room seething from the anger of the thought of the man who had cut Annalie off from her powers. Sometimes he would get caught up in thought of it and find that he'd stopped working altogether.

That happened to be how Daemon SaDiablo found him. "Jazen, did my button do something particularly vexing?" he drawled, walking to his desk to find his business papers he'd been working on before bed the night before.

Jazen flushed. He supposed that was the only reasonable thing to ask when walking in on one's valet glaring venomously at the buttons from one of your expensive silk shirts. "No, the buttons are merely the victims of a bit of misdirected anger," he said.

"At who?" Daemon asked, not really remembering the last time Jazen had hated anyone.

"Someone long dead," Jazen said. "Not her," he added, feeling the temperature get just the slightest bit colder. "It's someone I've never met," he said.

"Must be bad then," Daemon said. "I've never known you to hate someone simply on the word of someone else," he said. "Who is it?"

"I have no idea," Jazen said, going back to hanging the victimized shirt in its proper place in Daemon SaDiablo's wardrobe.

"You've confused me, congratulations," Daemon said, starting to look for the papers again after stopping for a moment to stare at his valet.

Jazen shook his head, glad his employer was in a good mood or they might have been having a very different conversation. He went back to hanging up clean laundry. "If I tell you that it's nothing, will you drop it?"

"You mean you want me to not try to find out what's gotten my very mild mannered employ angry enough to look like he's about to strangle one of my shirts?" Daemon asked, stopping again to smirk at Jazen.

"I had hopes," Jazen said. "They're not here, the papers you're looking for. I had them sent to your study an hour ago."

"Good man," Daemon said, shutting his drawer and turning around. He leaned on the desk in such a way that there was no way that his full attention couldn't be focused on Jazen. "So, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," the valet answered automatically while his mind tried to find a reasonable answer. "I was just angry about one of my friends getting hurt is all."

"A friend," Daemon said, sounding like a cat who'd caught a bird in his mouth. "A female friend?"

"Why?" Jazen asked, not liking where this was going.

"My mother talks about you when I go to visit," Daemon said. "She talks about her new student, says it's the first time she's had a real student and not a nursemaid," he said, wincing a bit because he helped to pick the women who cared for his mother. "She loves her student a lot. Annalie, she said her name was, a woman like her and not like her," he said, his eyes on Jazen who didn't look comfortable. He lapsed into silence, waiting for his employee to break it.

"Prince?" Jazen asked, feeling like he was heading into dangerous water.

"She says that you watch Lady Annalie like a hawk, protective of her."

"Prince?"

"Jazen, why do I not hear about this young woman?" Daemon asked.

"She's my friend. I wasn't aware that you needed to know about whom your employees spend time with," Jazen said, sounding tersely polite.

"Jazen, until about three months ago I almost couldn't get you to take a day off now you can't seem to wait to go. Is there something I should know?" Daemon asked, looking very much like the smug cat.

"No, Prince, there's nothing you need to know," Jazen said, feeling his own temper rising.

"Do you like this woman?" Daemon asked.

"Prince SaDiablo, I value your opinion on many things very highly. But this is a case where you opinion is neither requested nor required and I politely request that you leave it alone," Jazen said in a tone that was surprisingly polite for the fact that it was said mostly through gritted teeth.

Daemon didn't look so amused any more. He tilted his head to one side, considering the other man in the room. "It seems, Warlord, that I have made a mistake," he said. If Jazen hadn't been so angry he would have seen that there was a problem. "You seem to be very stressed. I think that maybe you should take the week off."

"What?" Jazen asked, stunned out of his anger.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to not pay you, but you have quite a backlog of vacation days and you've never taken off more than one and a half days out of the week when most other servants take two. I believe it is time to rectify this situation," he said. "You can finish hanging up my shirts, but then I want you to return to your room, pack, and not set foot on the premises for a week. We'll see what happens when you return," Daemon said and walked out.

Jazen starred after him, feeling numb. He did as he was told: hanging up the shirts before going back to his rooms to pack a few things he had to have while he was away and then he left, heading to his apartment.

* * *

"Jazen, he's not going to fire you," Terry said. For all that he bitched about Jazen never drinking it was disturbing to see him drink now, especially in such a great quantity, especially in the near early morning.

"I've been suspended Terry," Jazen said.

"He told you to take some time off," Terry said, trying to get all the words from the exact story right.

"Which means he's being polite enough to not just fire me," Jazen muttered, taking a long gulp out of his glass, emptying it. "Another," he said.

Terry sighed and refilled the man's glass. "You never, ever take a vacation. He had to make you get a place to live outside of the Hall, and he made you take one day a week off. He's not firing you, he's trying to tell you to be normal and go… I don't know, meet people."

"He's going to fire me," Jazen said, now officially drunk and he threw back another shot. "I got mad at him and I yelled at him and so he's going to fire me. I crossed a line. I forgot because we're friendly that there's a line I can't cross and I did," Jazen mumbled, covering his face with his hands. "Another."

Again, Terry refilled the glass. "Jazen, you were perfectly polite. You told me that, you told me your exact wording. You were being reasonable. You're not getting fired," he said.

"I crossed the line. In personal service they don't want to know that you're a person. I crossed the line because he was friendly and I forgot to not act like a person. It didn't matter if I yelled or not. I stopped being amusing. He's kind enough that he's not going to make a big deal about it," Jazen mumbled.

"Oh Jazen, you've worked for the man for what? A century, nearing two? You work hard for him, harder than anyone. You protect him, you respect him, you know exactly how he likes his shirts and pants and you know how to deal with the women in his life. He'd be insane to fire you," Terry said, refilling Jazen's shot glass without having to be asked this time. He refilled it again when it was empty in seconds, and again when it became empty once more.

"Crossed a line," Jazen mumbled, taking another shot before burying his face in his hands.

"Jazen, what are you doing here?" Annalie asked, stepping out of the kitchen. She'd improved a lot the past two months. Her hair was still short, but she'd slowly started to wear shirts that had a lower neck line (her collarbones were finally showing) and rolling up her sleeves outside of the kitchen. She'd even spoken to Terry once or twice without him having to speak to her first. He was sure the credit had to go to Jazen, especially since she seemed to smile more on the days he was actually around.

"I'm getting fired," Jazen muttered.

"Fired!" Annalie gasped, alarmed. "What for?"

"You're not getting fired!" Terry snapped before looking at Annalie and wagging his finger in her face. "And you, don't encourage him," he said. He realized his mistake too late. He's always been so careful of Annalie, but now he was snapping at her, too close, making violent gestures in her direction.

"You're the one encouraging him, getting him drunk," Annalie snapped back, edging around Terry. She leaned over the bar and reached out, brushing some of Jazen's black hair out of his eyes and behind his ear. "Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong?" she asked, sounding soothing.

"I don't wanna," Jazen muttered, looking away.

"What's going on?" Annalie asked, actually ordered, Terry.

Terry was stunned for a moment, but got out of it real quick from the look she was giving him. He was used to thinking of her as so meek and mild, shy even. This Annalie was not the girl he knew and he wondered for a moment if this was the girl that Jazen saw when the two of them went out on their days off.

"Jaz has it in his head that because his employer told him to take a week off when the man wouldn't even take a day off unless he had to that he's about to get fired," Terry said.

"I crossed the line," Jazen said. "It just stopped being amusing and so he's going to fire me."

"Hell's fire! You've worked for Daemon Sadi for going on two centuries! He's not going to fire you because you told him that you don't want him nosing around your private life. Hell, knowing him, he'd throw you a… Jaz, what's wrong?" Terry asked. He didn't know when it started, but Jazen's face was a close to ghost pale as a Hayllian born man's could be.

"Annalie," Jazen said, gripping onto the rail to force himself to stand.

"You… you work for that bastard to," Annalie hissed. "You lied to me," she said, looking betrayed.

"No, no, I didn't lie," he said,

"What, did you tell on me? Am I about to get grabbed up out of my bed?" she asked.

"No, no I would never, he doesn't know and if he did he wouldn't!" Jazen tried to say all his words at once with the result of an only marginally intelligible sentence.

"What else did you lie about? Did you lie about Tersa too? She can't possibly be that bastard's mother," Annalie snapped, venom in her voice.

Jazen straightened up a bit. "Lady Tersa is Daemon SaDiablo's mother. She birthed him and she loves him very much. She once boned a man like a fish because she thought he was threatening her son, so if I were you, I'd keep what you think of Prince SaDiablo to yourself," he said. "Besides that… it's not like it's going to matter in a week anyway. Once I go back I'm going to be let go," he said, sinking back into his seat.

Annalie glared at him for the longest time before stomping off back to the kitchens.

"Would you like about refill?" Terry asked.

"Just leave me a couple of bottles, it'll save you the energy," Jazen said softly.

* * *

Annalie was furious, absolutely furious. She was angry enough that she wasn't thinking as she grabbed her coat and headed out of the tavern, or as she walked down the street. She wasn't even really thinking when she asked a stranger the way to SaDiablo Hall. Her mind started working by the time she arrived, though. She got in by telling the man who answered the door that she was Jazen's friend and he left something and asked if she could get it.

After that it was merely a matter of asking directions before she was pointed to Daemon SaDiablo's study. She knocked, but there was no answer. She tested the door but it was unlocked. She slipped inside and made her way to one of the arm chairs in front of the desk and waited.

She had plenty of time to wait and in that time she started to think. She was angry and hurt that Jazen hadn't told her… but she'd also come out very strongly against his employer before she never knew who he worked for. At the time he'd been trying to help her get more used to being around men. Since then he'd done more to help her than anyone else. She was angry and hurt, mostly because she felt stupid for having been so vocally against someone that her friend so deeply respected. But that part wasn't important, especially if what Jazen was saying was true.

She'd never met or even seen Daemon Sadi before that day, but the punch she felt when he came in was more than enough for her to get a sense of him. There was incredible sensuality mixed in with cold anger. She stood and turned to look at him. He was every bit as beautiful as the rumors, and far more so than her imagination of him. He was incredibly attractive and frightening. Her old fear kicked up at being trapped in a room with him, but no new fear and no genuine attraction.

"What are you doing in my office?" his wonderfully deep voice crooned.

"I came to see you," Annalie said, her tone more firm than she felt at that moment.

"That's obvious, or you wouldn't be here," he crooned, keeping his eyes on her like a hawk. He circled around her and came to sit behind his desk. He sat with more grace than any person should have, rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. "You lied to my staff, you entered my office without my permission and now you are being rude. Would you like to try again?" he purred.

Annalie stared at him, feeling a bite of hatred so strong. "I hate you," she told him. "You're useless and cocky and mean and I never hated you more than when you first opened your mouth and tried to siren me into your bed," she said coldly.

One elegant eyebrow raised on the man's head. "You're implying that I'm trying to seduce you to my bed?" he asked.

"Yes," she said defiantly.

"Trust me, if I was trying to do that, you would know," he said and whatever had been tethering his sexuality fell away completely for just an instant. In that instant Annalie felt she knew exactly why he was the most famous pleasure slave to have ever existed, both for the bedroom skills and for his moniker, 'The Sadist'.

"Yes," she gasped, feeling winded. "I think I would to," she said. "I apologize for the accusation, Prince," she said tersely. "But I still hate you."

Again, the eyebrow rose. "Then why are you here?" he asked.

"You can't fire Jazen," she said bluntly.

"I can't?" he asked too softly.

"No, he's a good man, loyal and steadfast," she said.

"Are you describing a dog, or a person?" Daemon asked.

"I'm not finished!" she snapped, blushing a bit. "He respects you, and I know he works harder for you that anyone else ever will. You'd b a fool to fire him," she said.

"I know," Daemon Sadi said.

"Then why are you firing him?" she demanded.

"I'm not firing him," Daemon said. "What made you think I was?" he asked.

"Jazen thinks he is," she said, more inclined to believe the man getting himself terribly drunk back in the bar than the very sober man sitting in front of her. Much to her surprise Daemon Sadi sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not going to fire Jazen," he finally said. "He is more brave and more loyal than you will ever know," he said. "I would not want anyone else working so closely for me. I would never fire him," he said.

"Then why did you give him reason to think he was fired?" she asked.

"I have him a week off because I thought if he got to spend more time with you that it would be a good thing," he said.

"Me?"

"You are Annalie, I take it? I've never seen him so focused on anyone since I first met him," he explained. "For any other man I'd say he was in love."

Annalie blushed. "Why not for him?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Why wouldn't you say that for him?"

"It's complicated, and it's not my story to tell," Daemon added. He glanced across the desk at the young woman who nodded. She understood. "Here's what I can tell you. Jazen has suffered more than whatever you're imagining. When he finally does get up the courage to tell you, just know that what happened had nothing to do with anything except that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said.

"Of course," she said a bit snipply. "He worked near Dorothea, right? We all know what a shit she was. Besides, Jazen's not like the type of man who deserves his punishment… few men are," she added bitterly.

"Yes, few are," Daemon agreed, somehow seeming lost in thought. "Well, now that this matter is cleared up," he said, standing. "I am glad that we had this misunderstanding. It's nice to know that someone understands Jazen," he said.

"You talk about him like a friend," she said.

"He is my valet because it was his work of choice and because when I came to Kaeleer the only way I could bring him with me was for him to be registered as my servant… let's just say that I am loyal to anyone as loyal as he is," he said.

"Then you must have few loyalties… no one's as loyal as he is," she said, shooting him a nasty look. "I still hate you," she added.

"So you've told me," he said. "Now, would you mind leaving? I still have work to do."

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I finally, finally finished! Hooray!


End file.
